


Don't Stay Hungry

by lousy_science



Category: Star Trek RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-30
Updated: 2013-05-30
Packaged: 2017-12-13 11:34:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,412
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/823836
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lousy_science/pseuds/lousy_science
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>IDEK 'verse, which is AU Pinto with an extra limb. Of course. Features cheese.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Don't Stay Hungry

  
**Spoiler alert** : [This is the cake](http://www.artisancheese.co.uk/js/plugins/imagemanager/files/CheeseWeddingCakesSquare.jpg) mentioned in the story, and [this is the poem](http://writersalmanac.publicradio.org/index.php?date=2007/03/02) that Zach reads. **ETA** : And some more of those cakes [in the comments here](http://lousy-science.livejournal.com/24399.html?thread=129615#t129615).

  
 

"Mal and Jan, Janimal?"

 

Zach winced. "Do they need a nickname?" 

  


"Every couple needs a nickname,"

 

They were driving out to the wedding venue, and Zach seemed a bit on edge. Which was fair enough, Chris thought, as he was a groomsman and they were an hour late due to a disaster with the baba ganoush. Eventually it had been left behind, and in a chiller in the back seat there were huge containers of hummus, tzatziki, salsa, and guacamole. It was a DIY wedding, and they were on dips.

The radio had been on NPR but that had been turned off when a program on school funding threatened to send Zach into a white-hot rage. Chris thought he had some funny podcasts, but the iPod adaptor had crapped out, and after working back-to-back shifts at the cafe he ruled out any AOR stations. "I have to hear Boston like every hour, I just can't in my leisure time."

Which left Chris sitting there nursing his hangover and thinking how weird life was, that he was going to the wedding of people he'd met exactly once. He had liked Mal and Jan, old friends of Zach's who dated from his most hippy period. But it was unnerving, if he was being completely honest. After having Zach all by himself for the most part, now here were these people who he'd tramped on the Appalachian Trail with for three weeks, who had a whole set of private jokes with him and knew all this juicy stuff about his past.

Like Sean, they had known Sean. Hell, they had introduced Zach to Sean, and then the two of them had been together for six years. That was a detail - six freaking years - that Jan had innocently dropped into conversation which Chris had been mulling over ever since. Along with the recently-acquired datum that Sean was a male model turned wildlife photographer.

 

Whoever was on booze duty at this wedding better come well equipped.

 

He shouldn't have got them drunk last night. Chris suspects that Zach is annoyed about that, too. It had struck him as a great idea when he had got to Zach's place to find him flailing in the kitchen over a dying food processor. The wine had been a gift from Mal, so that was a nice connection. And when drunk, Zach had let him give him a backrub. Which had then led to sex. So Chris wasn’t convinced that it had been such a poor choice.

 

"Wait, his last name is Donaldson, right? And hers is Key?"

"Chris..."

"Donkey! C'mon, that's gold."

Zach's face was thunderous. "Please, please, please do not say that at the wedding. Please."

"God, Zach, of course I wouldn't - I mean, even I'm not that immature,"

"Oh, no, I - "

Zach stroked Chris's leg, while changing gears, which was a pretty cool trick.

"I'm sorry. It's just that, Mal and Jan and I, we're tight."

Thigh-stroking only did so much. "I _know_ that, bonding on the Appalacian trail and all,"

"That’s exactly it,"

"I wouldn't insult your friends,"

"No, no. Chris. You gotta understand,"

The hand was on his knee now.

"When you do something that intense together, and you're in each other's company all of that time, you get close. And you're in the wilderness, together, and you start thinking – different kinds of stuff. And on around day four, you might come up with that Donkey thing yourself,"

"You didn't."

"...and you may spend a week braying at your friends because you think it's hilarious."

"No."

"Yes. I am not proud. It seemed very funny at the time. I was living off of trail mix, remember."

"And they didn't leave you there?"

"There was plenty of opportunity for them to tie me to a tree and let a bear get me. But they refrained. And that's why they're such great friends, and I need to do them right, and the stupid eggplant should've been cooked better,"

"That was eggplant gone rogue. That was the Sarah Palin of eggplants. It looked nice and simple and mostly harmless at first, but was full of bottomless evil."

"It was, wasn't it?"

Chris placed his hand over Zach's.

"It definitely was."

 _\----------------_

  
The ceremony had been genuinely sweet, and not too long. The people on booze duty had indeed come correct, as well as plenty of craft beer and blackberry wine there was a couple of bottles of straightforward Californian Cabernet Sauvignon. Chris had fallen upon it like a man dying of thirst. It was pleasant enough, but it was still essentially a stranger’s wedding. 

  


Zach had looked gorgeous up there, standing next to the wedding arch of gathered branches. He had smiled the entire ceremony, and Chris had barely taken note of the words being said. Then he’d done a reading, throwing a quick smirk in Chris’s surprised direction. It was a poem by Dorianne Laux, The Shipfitter’s Wife, and Chris had felt something bloom in his head with a soft pang, something unrelated to a cheap wine hangover.

He could hear Zach’s voice from over where he’d left him, engaged in a debate with some professor friend of Jan about wolf culling. It was way too dramatic for Chris’s tastes, though he was amused to see Zach’s arms flying as he argued. He hoped that no one got a glass of blackberry wine tipped on them in the cross fire. 

 

“Rumor has it, there will be food soon.”

Chris turned to the voice at his elbow. A short woman in blue was there, fiddling with her glass in the same distracted manner he had been. He figured that it was his turn for small talk.

“There are those canapé things they’ve been passing around. The ones with the cream cheese are quite nice.”

“Vegan, here. I meant, the big meal.”

“Oh, well that’s cool. Otherwise I’m going to get hosed on this stuff, and my other half will be less than impressed if I pass out.”

“We’re outdoors, you could just curl up on top of a nice fern or something.”

“Good idea. Maybe just dig a small hole and burrow in.”

They both laughed, a little too loud. Her hands brushed the side of her handbag, and he bet that she’d rather be checking her phone, but was too polite. Two introverts stuck making conversation, Chris thought, he supposed he’d go ahead and get the inevitable over now.

“Lovely weather for them.”

She nodded enthusiastically. 

“Oh, yes. The ceremony was lovely. I mean,”

“Moving.”

“Moving, yes. The poem was great?”

“That’s my – ”

Chris fell silent, staring over her shoulder. Confused, she turned around to follow his line of sight.

“Oh. My god.”

“I know.”

A couple of food carts were being wheeled out to the edge of the canopy. One was the cake. No one had prepared Chris for the cake. 

“That is beautiful.”

“That is…I’m going to be a bad vegan, aren’t I?”

“You can blame me. I need a wingman to get up close to that thing as soon as they cut it.”

“What if we get behind it? Then we miss out on being in the photos and can jump straight on.”

“Excellent plan. I’m Chris, by the way.”

“Debbie.”

“We should get over there now.”

  


Behind him, he could hear that Zach’s voice was raised and getting fairly shrill. Chris knew that meant he was getting really steamed with the smug academic dude. He should probably be over there calming them all down.

  


Fuck it. “Look at that thing.”

“I – I should be over with my husband, I can hear him winding some poor greenie up. But, yeah, let’s go.”

Chris turned his head back briefly. “Is your husband the one with the glasses, talking with the three-armed dude whose face is going red?”

“Uh, yes. He can’t help himself, he’s an economist. He’s married to me, the biggest hippy ever, and I just laugh it off, so he just likes playing devil’s advocate when he can.”

“Oh, don’t worry, he’s arguing with my boyfriend, who gives as good as he gets.”

“They’re probably having the time of their lives, then.”

“I don’t doubt it. Debbie, will you be my partner in fromage?”

“I’ll grab the crackers, you get some napkins. Rendezvous in five.”

 

 

 


End file.
